


it is four in the goddamn morning

by erenegade



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Author Is Sleep Deprived, M/M, but you know, in classic lafayette fashion, it's more of a "why the hell are you playing Kanye as loud as you can at the asscrack of dawn" au, kind of, lafayette turns up at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7158926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erenegade/pseuds/erenegade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based off a mashup of these two prompts: "dude your headphones are really loud like I can make out most of Kanye's lyrics and I'm sitting across the fucking room" and "i just interrupted your study session but i'll pay for coffee are we even now"</p>
            </blockquote>





	it is four in the goddamn morning

**Author's Note:**

> so i was messing around on tumblr when i came across [this post](https://callistawolf.tumblr.com/post/100809913937/swimcoachtachibana-queerlullaby) and it inspired me to write this. sorry about any errors; i word-vomited this at like three in the morning and i couldn't find anyone to beta it, so.

It is four in the morning. There is a paper due tomorrow. John is surrounded by books and empty Red Bulls. In the distance, Kanye plays.

Except John doesn’t have speakers or headphones with him. He doesn’t even like Kanye. There’s only one other person in the room, a short guy who could probably fit Russia into the bags under his eyes, and he’s wearing headphones, plugged into the beaten-up computer he’s typing on. His fingers fly noisily over the keys - it almost sounds like a four year old smashing an old PC’s keyboard - but even his frantic typing is quieter than Kanye’s ranting.

He’s on the _other side of the room_. Wearing _headphones._

“Hey,” John says. It’s four. In the morning. He’s so tired. The short guy ignores him.

“Hey,” he says, a little louder. Kanye continues to play - crystal clear and worryingly loud. He is on the other side of the room -

 _“Hey,”_ John almost shouts, and the short guy finally looks up, annoyed. He’s probably the only person John’s ever seen that looks good in the library’s unflattering lighting, which is completely irrelevant because John doesn’t even know the guy and it’s four in the morning, which is ~~hopefully~~ probably why his chest seems abnormally warm. Short Guy lifts one side of his headphones.

“What,” he almost shouts back, and John winces.

“You’re on the other side of the room,” he hears himself say.

“And?” Short Guy - Alex, a label on his laptop reads - asks. His entire face is scrunching up and John can’t help but think that he looks adorable, like a disgruntled kitten (and maybe it’s weird that he’s comparing a grown-ass man to a baby cat. John wouldn’t know at this point, honestly.)

“And I can still hear music from your headphones. The sun hasn’t even risen, why the hell are you playing Kanye as loud as you fucking can?” John shoots back, still unnecessarily loud. He’s so tired. Alex looks tired as well - his shoulders droop even more when John shouts at him.

“Sorry,” Alex mumbles, hands flitting to find the buttons on the cord of his headphones and turn down the music. John promptly wants to apologize for yelling, explain it’s just that he hasn’t slept in like ten years and that he’s usually not this assholish, offer to grab some coffee -

“That’d be nice. But we are not going to Starbucks. You don’t seem the type for Starbucks, but you never know,” Alex says, narrowing his eyes at John, _and wow did I actually just offer to get coffee with this guy? And did he actually say yes? And what cafe is open at the asscrack of dawn?_

“Uh,” John says, ever a man of wise words. “Great.” He clears his throat. “Do you know any coffee shops open at this hour…?” he trails off, waving his hand. Wow. Way to prioritize, Laurens.

“What? Oh, shit. Um, yeah. There’s this little cafe around the corner; it’s technically not open but I know the dude who runs it and he’s usually up at ungodly hours of the morning - his name’s Lafayette, but everyone calls him Laf - he’s probably there now, y’know, getting ready for opening time, but I’m sure he can whip up a couple cups of something decent - it’s all on me, of course, I’m really sorry for disturbing your study time,” Alex rambles, and John strides across the room and clamps a hand over Alex’s mouth without thinking about it, which is unfortunate because if he’d thought about it he would’ve realized that being less than a foot away from Alex’s wide eyes and slightly labored breathing with a hand over his mouth was probably a bad idea.

And for a moment it’s just that: John, with his ~~lips~~ face less than a foot away from Alex’s, a hand stifling the shorter man’s uneven breathing as they stare into each other’s eyes. It should feel off-kilter but instead it feels somewhat affectionate - until John leaps back like he’s been burned, blinking and shaking his head to clear the bombs going off in his brain.

“Sorry, it’s just - you were rambling,” he says, running a hand through his hair. Oh, god. He’d blown it before it had even started - not that this was a start to anything. It wasn’t like he’d asked Alex out on a date, right? It’s four in the morning, surely John’s lack of sleep is to be held responsible for most of the thoughts flitting through his head, the split-second thoughts of what it would be like to kiss Alex (a guy who he _just met_ , a guy who's _probably straight_ , a guy who _might have a girlfriend_ , a guy who _definitely doesn’t fall for strangers_ ~~like John does~~ ).

Alex, on the other hand, is just blankly staring at him. John stares back, subconsciously memorizing little details ~~in case Alex files a restraining order~~ ~~against him~~ to sketch later. Mouth slightly open, eyes wide with shock, somewhat trembling hands outstretched just the tiniest bit, like he’s reaching for ~~John~~ something.

“It’s fine,” Alex chokes out.

“Okay,” John whispers.

Silence, and John wants to fling himself out the window. The ground would probably hurt less than Alex’s lack of words (which is stupid, because they’ve just met. They’re just strangers.)

Alex coughs, shattering the awkward silence, and straightens his shoulders, slamming his laptop lid closed and sliding it in a worn messenger bag before zipping it shut, slinging it over his chest, and glancing at John, who watched the process blankly.

“Are you coming or not? I want to get there before any other customers arrive,” Alex says brusquely, moving to help John clear the desk of empty Red Bull cans.

“Yeah,” John croaks, still not entirely understanding why Alex still wants to get coffee with someone who totally just invaded his personal space. “Just…”

“Hurry up. We can come back for your books later, but I’d rather you take them so there’s no chance of them being stolen,” Alex says impatiently, trying to snap John out of it. It works, kind of. John starts stacking textbooks, shutting down his computer, slipping pens into his pencil pouch, and the minutes stretch on and on for ages until finally, everything’s put away except the faint buzzing in the back of John’s head.

“Is that it?” Alex asks.

“Yes,” John rasps. This entire situation is ridiculous. Fifteen minutes ago he was yelling at Alex, ten minutes later he had his hand clamped over Alex’s mouth, and now they're… going out for coffee? It sounds like the script for some shitty Hollywood rom-com.

“Great.” Alex holds out a hand and John instinctively takes it, wondering faintly why it was so cold.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i apologize for the shitty ending - i'm not really used to oneshots or actually finishing my works in general. kudos and comments are appreciated. come yell at me on [tumblr](http://the-unsubtle-one.tumblr.com) and we can freak out about hamilton together.


End file.
